


To Ben Solo

by pbjelly_jedi (orphan_account)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bittersweet, Bittersweet Ending, But I cried, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Growing Old, Hurt/Comfort, It's a letter, Not saying you'll cry, Open to Interpretation, Sad, Sad Ending, its sad okay, not angsty just sad, yes there's many meanings to the ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 20:05:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14921988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/pbjelly_jedi
Summary: Dear Ben Solo.....It's been a long time.





	To Ben Solo

**Author's Note:**

> So this is something a little different. I've wanted to do something like this for awhile, having Rey write a letter to Ben. I won't say anything more because it is open to interpretation and your own explanation. So please read, and I would absolutely love to hear your opinion on this in the comments. 
> 
> Much love,  
> Pbjelly_jedi

 

 

* * *

 

 

Dear Ben Solo.

 

 

It's been a long time.

 

Fifteen years go by quickly for most, but for me, they've been...rough.

It's been slow.

It's been hard.

I'll admit, I never thought I'd come to this point. Writing a letter like this. Heck, I can't even write like you could. All jumbled and what not.

But, that's not what I'm writing about.

I wanted to say this.

 

We're okay.

Yeah, we're okay.

That's what you'd asked. If we'd be okay.

And we are. Fifteen years later, we're still moving on.

Somedays, I wonder if our life together was just a dream. But then, that old ache returns.

 

 

I miss you Ben.

I miss you so badly.

I miss the way you laugh.

The way you cry.

I miss braiding your hair in the mornings and laughing as we make our caf.

I miss our sparring sessions and laying out under the stars. The strength of your arms. Your eyes.

 

But

 

I'm scared, Ben.

I can't hear your voice clearly any more.

They say you lose memories over time.

And force, I fight it.

I don't want to forget you.

I can't.

But I'm scared. Even after all these years, I'm terrified. I'm missing a part of me, and I can't find it again, because it's with you.

 

Oh look I smeared the ink. Yeah, I'm crying. Don't worry, Paxton isn't around to see my grief. He's outside, sparring with his friends.

You would have been proud of your son, Ben. He's grown to look a lot like you.

Even has your maddening personality.

I see more and more of you in him every day.

He still talks about you. He remembers your face, some things you've said. I write those memories down and keep them safely away for him to remind himself of.

I gave him your saber yesterday.

It was time. He was pretty quiet after that. But I saw him using it earlier this morning. I think he connected deeply to it, and I hope to talk to him soon about it. I want him to know just how wonderful his dad was.

 

So much has happened in the past fifteen years it would take another fifteen just to catch you up.

But, we'll have all the time in the world one day.

I've held on this long for Paxton, just like you asked me too.

Each day has become easier, just like you said they would.

But the ache hasn't gone away.

 

 

It remains, growing and alive inside me. I guess it will always stay that way.

I had nightmares after that day, Ben. Dreams of waking up without you, only to see that you really were gone. Feeling your pain, hearing your last words.

 

It hurts.

 

What's it like there, Ben? Is it just like the old stories say?

I know you are safe.

And I know, someday, I'll see you again,

wherever the force has taken you.

 

I miss you, and I love you to the stars and back.

Yours forever,

Rey

 

 

____________________________________

 

Trembling hands carefully creased the paper against the table top and gently set the old calligraphy pen back in its cup on the desk. A chair scraped backwards as its occupant slowly stood and walked out to the veranda overlooking the sea. The wind toyed with her graying three hair buns, and the worn fingers clutched the paper to her breast. She stood, leaning against the railing, watching the sun set slowly over the rippling waves of the sea. And as the breeze whistled towards the heavens, the woman let loose of the page, letting it slip from her fingers into those of the wind. She watched as it was carried away, eventually disappearing from her sight into the horizon.

A single tear slipped down her wrinkled, weathered cheeks and fell to the stones below.

And then she slowly turned her back on the setting sun and returned to the house.

 

 


End file.
